Tithe to Tartarus

by John C. Wright

  An eerie hush fell over the landscape.

  6. The Tear of the Grail Queen

  She felt Tom wrap his cloak gingerly about her.

  Malen said, “Wolves! Fall upon these two and tear them to shreds.”

  But Erlkoenig said, “Heap no more wrath upon yourself, traitress. For your treachery, in seven year’s time, you will come here again. The Moths must be saved alive for my interrogators to question.”

  She heard Tom call out, “In my hand is the tear of the Grail Queen, bathed in the light of the most holy Sangreal. She is alive in Heaven, a martyr, and I call upon her, upon the cup she watched, and upon he whose cup it is. In his name I ask you to gaze at this crystal and recall the bliss of Heaven you so rashly and ignobly forsook. Look! See how the light shines!”

  Through her closed lids, Yumiko saw the light grow bright and brighter.

  She heard the gasps and cries from the company gathered there: Brian sobbed, and Puck swore. Ethne, Malen, and the other women hissed.

  Other years and seasons now floated up as if from the bottom of the sea, rising like sunken continents restored to their own places. Her childhood, girlhood, and youth. Much of it was sad or silly, and many things she regretted.

  But the pain in her body began to fade. Perhaps it was shock. Perhaps the flames had burned her nerve endings away. Either way, death was near.

  She heard Erlkoenig’s voice. “Very well, young inventor. The elfin lords depart. We of the Night World have no dealings with the light you bear. But the wolves are not so awed by lost things as are we nor as delicate to avoid Christian blood. May they slay you for this insolence.”

  7. Rest

  With great pain, Yumiko willed her eyes to open. There was Tom, bending over her. Oddly, she saw hanging in the air over his head the glowing white pearl that had appeared when she assumed her spirit form as a fox.

  Of the elf lords, she saw no sign. The only remaining sign of the black landscape was a single huge hand thrust up into the air from the ground, motionless. Even as she watched, a wind blew dunes to cover it over. The silver sand now stretched to each horizon. The black glass was buried. The whole was elfin domain again, with no well, salt flat, or valley openly beholden to hell.

  As for the werewolves, Yumiko saw they were running in circles, leaping and snapping, attempting to pull down a great black batlike form. Pools of blood were splattered all along the silver ash.

  Whenever one wolf would leave the chase and turn, and run at Tom or Yumiko, the batlike form would swoop, and gather the running monster into his wings, and tear at his throat. Then, the bat would fold itself into the wound and enter the wolf body, whereupon the wolf would turn and rend its brothers, falling upon them with tooth and claw until it was torn apart. Whereupon the batlike shape would pull itself out of the maw of the dying beast and flap its way heavily into the dark air again.

  The wolves never seemed to understand what was happening, for they never ran at Tom in pairs or as a pack. Or perhaps they enjoyed the sport, not minding who killed whom. Or perhaps they saw how desperately the vast bat struggled since the circling and leaping pack came ever closer to where Tom cradled Yumiko in his arms.

  Whatever force had been holding her death at arm’s length was gone. A floating numbness was creeping into her. It was nice to feel weightless again. There was not the least trace of fear in her: only sadness.

  Yumiko whispered. “Tom. Don’t cry. I am happy. To see you. One, last…” But pain closed her throat, and she spoke no more.

  Yumiko could not focus clearly on Tom’s face. He was saying something, earnestly and urgently, but the words faded into and out of existence.

  Now it was time to rest. Yumiko wanted to explain to Tom that she was happy, very happy. She need only sink down now into the softness of nothingness awaiting her and enjoy the rest. Sweet rest.

  She closed her eyes and let her head drop back.

  8. Red Wine

  She could not rest. Something was bothering her. Had Tom heard her answer? Had she spoken it in time?

  Yumiko pried her eyes open again. She croaked and could not speak. She was very thirsty. The silver ash was everywhere. It was choking her.

  She saw a little dot of light in the dark heaven, like a firefly. Down it darted rapidly. Here was Elfine, still carrying the white ring. Elfine called out in horror when she saw Yumiko’s wounds and burns.

  The nine-inch-high girl landed near Yumiko’s motionless, limp left hand. This was the hand that was not swollen. Without a word, Elfine thrust the ring on Yumiko’s finger and twisted it. Starlight, and then sunlight, burst forth.

  Four vast and terrifying living creatures were then looming over them, larger than galaxies, light years tall, but somehow compressed by some impossible quirk of perspective to became visible to the eye. Now their wings were entirely folded, their bodies cloaked, and three of the faces out of four were not seen. The remaining face was like the face of a man, bright as the sun. To stare directly at it was to go blind.

  A half dozen of the braver werewolves turned, yammering, and ran toward the nearest of the four living creatures. They approached the huge ox hooves of the creature’s feet, which were glowing like ingots in a forge. Fire came from the many eyes in the feathers of its wings, and lightning came from the fires, and the six brave wolves were whirled into the air and lit ablaze. The wolves were destroyed so swiftly that no yelp escaped. They were consumed so utterly that no scrap of fur or splinter of bone remained.

  The others wolves, not as brave, then ran away, yammering. It was in vain. Fires from Heaven fell down among them. As when a candle flame is blown out and leaves no trace, they were gone.

  Now from underneath the eagle feathers of the wings, one of the living creatures raised a hand and spread its fingers. In the light shed from the living creatures, the heaps and dunes of ash suddenly faded away and were no more, and the dark surface beneath grew bright as ice, and all the cracks were mended. The white light from the mirror surface became like flame, but the flickering flames were albino grass and gentle white reeds and pale brush. The standing stones and obelisks turned into trees of many fair shapes, oak and ash and hawthorn, slender birch and many types of fruit trees, but each one white as snow. The dolmens became trellises for white rose or pale grape. The eyes in the wings of the living creatures flew up into the dark and empty heavens, taking fixed positions, and becoming stars.

  Tom, staring upward, slack-jawed, uttered softly, “By Schroedinger’s cat! What the heck was that? What happened?”

  Elfine tugged on the ring on Yumiko’s finger. She said to Tom, “It is stuck! Turn the ring! Or else the priest vampire boy cannot get near us.”

  Tom said to Elfine, “And just who are you?”

  Tom took Yumiko’s hand in his. The light from the ring dimmed, turning from sunlight to starlight to metal. The band went from brilliant to argent to white. The archangelic face became angelic and then a visage of an open-eyed woman. The vast beings looming over them shedding lightning bolts disappeared from view.

  The pale colors in the landscape turned to green grass, brown trunks, wooden trellises, and flowers with as many hues as the rainbow.

  “What were those things?” asked Tom. “Where did they go?”

  Elfine tilted her head and rolled her eyes. “I think they are still here. They are always here. They are angels. If you look at them wrong, you die.”

  Tom said, “Those things are what? I thought angels wore dresses and played harps and looked like King Vultan of Mongo, but girlier. If those bad boys are around all the time, why don’t they help us? In battles?”

  The batlike shape landed heavily on the white grass near Tom and Yumiko. The head of Matthias replaced the triangular batlike skull. “They do. But only the eyes of faith can see the result.”

  Elfine said, “Or a magic ring!”

  Tom said, “She’s dying. Can you do anything?”

  “Fear not,” said Matthias. “I can. We are in the dream realm. It
is a very old and solid part, and we are physically present, but all of this around us is dream stuff nonetheless. Find me a cup.”

  Elfine picked up a white acorn cap and grew suddenly to her full size, expanding the acorn cap with her. “Will this do?”

  Tom said to Elfine, “Just who are you again?”

  Elfine had dimples when she smiled. “I am going to be the maid of honor at your wedding!”

  Matthias opened his mouth, and fangs as long as switchblades unfolded from his upper jaw. He shook his wings, and they became human arms. He tore open his wrist with a vicious slash, and squeezed his fist, and poured his living blood into the white cup.

  “This would not be lawful on Earth,” said Matthias. “I hope it is allowed here.”

  Yumiko murmured. “Yes. Tell him. I said. Yes. I do.”

  Matthias said soothingly to her, “Do not worry. Once I was a vampire, who drank life from others. But now I can draw upon those selfsame evils as a source of strength. You see, holy unction cures it. Vampirism is just a disease, a spiritual plague rather than a physical one… and…”

  But Tom said, “That is not what she is asking about.” He bent his head lower. “What is it, darling?” But Yumiko was too weak to answer.

  Matthias said a prayer over the cup, and made the sign of the cross over it three times, and presented it to her. “Hold her head up. Let her drink.”

  Yumiko was very thirsty but did not want to drink blood. The idea was nauseating. However, the cup at her lip smelled of red wine. It was cool and refreshing on her tongue and went like warm and cozy fire down her throat. She was surprised the nerves and muscles in her lips and mouth were hale enough to sip and taste and swallow.

  She stretched her limbs and sat up. Her flesh was pink and whole, and her bones unbroken, and not even the smallest cut or bruise marred her. The hair on her head was not burned, nor was there even the smell of smoke. Yumiko laughed in breathless joy and cast her arms around Tom, who looked surprised to the point of shock.

  Matthias, meanwhile, smiled, started to speak, turned pale, fainted, and fell. The batlike form was entirely gone: he lay naked on the grass.

  Chapter Fifteen: Ne’er Sees More His Own Country

  1. The Waking World

  Tom turned toward Matthias, startled. Yumiko stood and drew the green cloak embroidered with holly leaves around her. Elfine said to her, “Welcome back! Say! Is this really the dream realm? What happens if the people dreaming about this section of landscape wake up?”

  Yumiko said sharply, “Where is Wilcolac?”

  Wilcolac’s voice came from all directions at once. “I am here. I have cast a word of power from myself like a falcon from my wrist to wake those very beings and restore me to my place.”

  And Yumiko looked and realized that she could see him. The fat man was still wounded, bleeding from mouth and nose and from both legs. The long green cloak still draped his portly form. Beneath he was dressed in eighteenth-century formal gentleman’s wear, complete with cravat and waistcoat. He was seated on a headstone, swaying, grimacing, and the blood from his wounds had stained the marble pink in places. From somewhere, for he had not had it before, he had summoned his walking stick. He leaned on it wearily, murmuring words to it. Perhaps it murmured back.

  All around was the Cavalry Cemetery of Queens. Yumiko squinted and blinked, for the day was dazzling bright. The morning sun was still near the horizon, which surprised her. It felt like many hours had passed. But, from the look of things, the cemetery was not yet open for business. The dolomite dome of the Johansson Mausoleum rose from the crest of the hill above. Headstones and statues were crowded around.

  Yumiko looked left and right. Matthias was nowhere in sight. Nor was Elfine.

  Yumiko moved toward Wilcolac. The voluminous green cloak fluttered about her with the agitation of her walk. “You tried to toss my beloved into Hell to save your own wretched soul.”

  Tom stepped forward, put his arms around Yumiko, and whispered, “There, there! It is bad form to take vengeance on my evildoers until after you say hello to me!” He bent his lips near hers.

  But then he saw Wilcolac watching. Instead of kissing the girl, Tom turned and squinted at the magician. “Wait a minute. I know you. You are the club owner. Of that place Rotwang used to take me when he wanted to get cross-eyed. The Crummy Club. Right?”

  Wilcolac smiled sourly. “Cobbler’s Club. Winged Vengeance has burned me out, but the dim vigilante seems not to know how modern society works. My insurance is well paid and covers acts of arson, and since my friends control the insurance industry as well as the legal profession, I foresee no difficulties.”

  Yumiko had tilted her head back and parted her lips, but when no kiss was forthcoming, she twisted a bit in Tom’s arms, just enough to express annoyance, but did not pull free.

  She turned her head to scowl at Wilcolac. “But your master is dead. Thursday.”

  Wilcolac said, “Alive. But burning slowly in Hell. Forever. As I sit and contemplate my future, I am trying to reckon the ways in which this disadvantages me, if any.”

  Yumiko said, “You serve him. You must be loyal.”

  “Must I? Lord Thursday forced me out of a comfortable neutrality and friendship with all sides. Excitement and calamity became a daily routine. He invited his dreadful girlfriend into my place, whom I hope is rotting in an elfin jail in Troynovant, or languishing in an enchanted sleep, or trapped in the shape of a sapling.”

  Wilcolac smiled at her and continued. “Spare him no pity. It was at his behest I took you into my service, but I saved you from him. He wanted to torture the location of the vigilante’s lair out of you. I knew we could find it with a little psychological pressure, an obvious tail for you to spot and shake and a smoother tail for you not to, and a little patience. The Cheyenne sent me the signal to indicate you led him to your master’s hidden lair, or else I would not have given Garlot the go-ahead to duel with Gilberec. I assume the foolish young knight is dead…”

  Yumiko was surprised when Tom released her and stepped away. A cheer from his throat interrupted Wilcolac’s speech. The red-haired youth was jumping, waving both arms overhead, and hallooing.

  Through the forest of headstones came a jingle of spurs and a clatter of armor. Gilberec atop Rabicane came into view trotting down the slope, leading his riding horse, his pack horse, and Matthias’s white mule. The truncheon of a broken lance was in his hand, and his shield was dented. Ruff the dog came running pell-mell down the slope, barking excitedly, then he ran back up the slope toward Gil, barked more, and ran down the slope again.

  2. A Noble Offer

  Wilcolac looked up at the young knight approaching. “And to think, Lucien called me foolish when I told him it was likely Arthur’s blessing was on the boy.”

  Yumiko could not resist an arch smile. “I know. I heard. I had you bugged.”

  He gasped in surprise and coughed in pain. He wiped blood from his mouth onto a handkerchief. “Resourceful. But you were a creature strictly of fifteenth-century samurai weapons and ninja tricks, or so I heard. When did you enter the electronic age?”

  Yumiko smiled again, eager to boast about Tom and his cleverness, but Wilcolac did not wait for her answer. “No matter! The affair is done. You have no more business with me. My ties to the Anarchists are cut. If anything, I am grateful to you. And I am glad, very glad, Lord Thursday is in the inferno, luxuriating in each one of the punishments laid out for me.”

  Yumiko said sharply, “That is disgusting! To let another suffer in your place!”

  He smiled a crooked smile. “So says a young woman baptized just today. How droll of you.”

  Gil arrived, doffing his helmet and tucking it under one arm. His silver hair in the sunlight looked as metallic as his breastplate. He looked down from his seat in his saddle to the wounded man.

  He spoke without preamble. “Wilcolac Cobweb, do you wish to escape from the Anarchists? Another Thursday will be appointed in time, or another Lo
rd of Anarchy will see that you were useful once. You did not have the strength to oppose them then. Join us. Serve Arthur! My sword will protect you.”

  “And you make me this most noble offer… why?

  “To save your mortal life and perhaps your immortal soul,” said Gilberec grimly.

  “Oh? And not because you wish my particular talents to serve your cause rather than theirs?”

  “Quite the opposite,” said Gil. “You must forswear all magic, break your wand, release your familiar spirits, and cast any books of hidden secrets into the sea.”

  Wilcolac smiled. “And give up show biz?”

  Gil scowled.

  Wilcolac waved his hand in the air as if to shoo away a fly. “No, my lad, I have made many grisly sacrifices to win what I have won, and many a dreadful secret I have unearthed, things known to no others. And now I have been to the maw of Hell itself during the tithing of the elfin kings. My reputation among the other practitioners in the field will soar!”

  Yumiko said, “Your hob, Crookshank, is gone. Your ghost, Jack-o’-Lantern, is gone. I killed one and freed the other. Joan the Wad said she was going to be baptized.”

  Wilcolac’s smile became a little stiff. He said to Tom, “You know, young inventor, while you were languishing in the grip of the pharmaceuticals and enchantments I plied you with, your girlfriend was dancing for tips at my club. Truly sleazy and uncouth old men would tuck grimy bills of high denominations into all sorts of intimate crevasses. She was not entirely naked.”

  Tom said, “Schroedinger’s inconsistent cat! You are so going to die now!”

  “Am I?” smirked Wilcolac. He squinted up at Gilberec. “Well, Sir Knight. Your ears are keen. Did I speak any untrue thing?”

  Gil’s face darkened. The look of steel in his eyes was not pleasant to see. He threw down his truncheon at the magician’s feet. “As easily as that spear was broken, your enemies will break you.”

  “Fortunate for me that I find myself in better company then, is it not?” Wilcolac spoke on in an airy and carefree tone. His smile was smug. “Will you kindhearted young folk with your foolish high ideals be content to watch me bleed and die, or will you call an ambulance for me?”